


Sacrifice

by Bazylia_de_Grean



Series: Endings to Bring Closure [4]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: F/M, PoE Inktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 13:50:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bazylia_de_Grean/pseuds/Bazylia_de_Grean
Summary: Her heart constricts, because she knows where he is. She only glimpsed that place in his memories once, briefly, and he never allowed her to see it again. Has never gone back there himself. Until now.





	Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> (PoE inktober, prompt 11: Sacrifice)

Eidis wakes up suddenly, blinking. Her bedchamber is quiet, everything seems fine, and Thaos is sleeping calmly beside her… No, he is not asleep, merely trying to convince her so. But his breaths are too measured, too controlled, too slow. His face seems peaceful, but there is an unnatural stillness to him; he is tense, like a bowstring right before it snaps. Like a soul before it leaves a body.

Her heart constricts, because she knows where he is. She only glimpsed that place in his memories once, briefly, and he never allowed her to see it again. Has never gone back there himself. Until now.

For a moment, Eidis wonders if she is strong enough to face what even Thaos has been afraid of for so long. But when she looks at him, notices the tautness of the muscles in his jaw that belies his serene expression, she cannot just turn away and go back to sleep, as he would no doubt tell her to do.

Eidis lies back on the pillows and closes her eyes. She takes a slow, deep breath, and then quietly slips into his thoughts.

* * *

 

The ash reaches past her ankles, sticking to her feet as she walks. There are bigger heaps, too, hills and valleys and waves, and Eidis bites her lip as her eyes fill with tears. She blinks them away, determined.

Thaos is standing in the middle of the chamber, a dark silhouette outlined starkly against the inner glow of adra, motionless like a statue himself. His hands, fisted around the folds of his robe, jerk slightly in surprise as he senses her.

That is how she saw him for a moment in Sun in Shadow: a pile of ash, held together by his indomitable will. That is how he appears to her now, this is where he seems in his place, filling a small part of this immense void – not merely emptiness, but _absence_ of countless souls that used to be here – faces, voices, laughter; hope.

Fear. Cries. Silence.

He has done terrible things, Eidis knows it best because she has visited his memories more than once. But this – his fate was his own doing, his own choice, but _this_ was not his decision. This stone floor, this carpet of dust – that was the sacrificial altar upon which he laid himself – his soul, all his lifetimes, everything – upon which he made an offering to the newly-created gods… And looking at this chamber now, standing where he stood, feeling the weight of that burden in her own soul, Eidis finds that she cannot judge him. Because maybe if that had been done to her people, maybe if she had watched her family and friends go that way, she would have done similar things just not to let it go to waste. He felt that was the only way in which he could honour their memory, and she cannot judge him.

It is not her right to forgive – save for whatever he did to her, but she forgave that long ago, maybe even in another lifetime, when he showed her that terrifying kind of mercy she had asked for. It is not her right to forgive, but she is not going to let him forsake himself. Breaking a soul further can never heal it, and he is damned already – he damned himself – and his existence has been both sin _and_ punishment.

She is not going to leave him alone in this. Maybe he does not deserve it, but it is not her role to judge. Besides, her heart and soul did that already – and they decided to save him.

Eidis approaches him cautiously, not sure what to do. There are no words she can offer him, and he would accept none, and… She stops beside him and touches this hand tenderly, fingers brushing across his wrist and then slipping between his palm and the crumpled fabric in his grasp. For a moment, Thaos does not react, and she fears that she made a mistake, that she should not have come here… Then his hand relaxes a little, fingers spreading slightly, just enough to let her own fingers fit between his.

She gently wraps his palm in both of hers, lightly pressing against his side, laying her cheek on his shoulder. When he makes no move to pull away, Eidis clings to him. That is all she can do – just be here, accompany him through this, should he want comfort. And if not – oh, of course he would not, he would never – then simply just be near him. She does not believe her presence could bring him solace, not in this – even if he wanted – but sharing a burden always makes it a little lighter.

They stand like that for what seems an eternity. The chamber is quiet, save for their breaths – his breaths are so controlled it hurts to listen, but she knows why, knows that he is staring into the abyss that is his past, standing right at the verge of the breaking point. But he would never allow himself to give in to grief, because that would mean he had a right to experience sorrow and anguish. And he denies himself that.

Yes, he maintained the image of the holy messenger for ages, because that was his duty to the gods – to his memories. In his numerous lifetimes, he has had many titles – but he has never called himself a good man. She could see that, too, when they met in Sun in Shadow – that despite his devotion and focus, despite the conviction there was no other way and the determination never to stray from his course, he was still able to _regret_.

Maybe that is what he needs, Eidis muses. Understanding that he can grieve. He will never find absolution, but maybe that small grace would be enough?

She tentatively tries to reach into his soul, but all his mental barriers are up – and overflowing, that is why she can pick up incomplete thoughts and echoes of feelings – but he does not want her to look inside, so she withdraws. Truth be told, she expected nothing else. Still, she stays beside him, though all she can give him is her quiet presence.

“That is a lot, soulmistress,” Thaos mutters, gently squeezing her hand. “But I do not deserve your compassion,” he adds, tone quiet but firm.

His voice tugs at her soul, and it hurts to hear him mention it so impassively – but there is no right way to speak of it. She follows that brief stab of pain deeper, to the very bottom of that complicated tangle of emotions their relationship is, finds that place where she is light and love and warmth, lets those feelings bloom into a small, brilliant sun inside her, lets them burn away doubts and pain, everything, until all that remains is brightness.

Then she opens her eyes and looks at him. “You do not get to decide what I do with my compassion,” she replies softly, but there is power in her voice, the same strength that kept her upright the last time they were both here.

Thaos turns towards her, hand cupping her cheek and gently tilting her face up. There is reverence in his gaze; no longer so surprised and breathless, no; now it is underlined by bitterness – but all the more profound for it. “No, I do not,” he agrees quietly. “But you do not get to decide what I do with my burden.”

“It’s…”

“Not yours,” he interrupts, gentle but insistent. “You’ve had enough burdens for a few lifetimes. I will not add more weight onto your shoulders than I already have. Not even a feather.”

Eidis shakes her head. What he says is true, but why cannot he see…

“I wanted you to be free,” she says fervently. “Everything I…” she swallows, stumbles over words, finds the courage to speak them at last. “In Sun in Shadow, when I saw and wiped your memories. I wanted you to be free of your burdens.”

“And carry them for me?” His thumb strokes her cheek. “No, Eidis. That would not be right. No, do no protest,” he says when she opens her mouth to respond. “Mercy cannot exist without justice. Shouldn’t.”

She looks away, suddenly embarrassed. Maybe he is right, and they should not. But she cannot be impartial justice, even to him. Especially to him.

“It wasn’t mercy,” she whispers at last. Neither it is now – there is mercy in this, and compassion, and pity – but overall it is mostly just love. And she is aware how blind love can be.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” She shakes her head. “I wanted you to remember. Me. Us. That’s all I could think of when you came to Caed Nua.” Her eyes are wet again. “I should have been more careful with my wishes.” Not for the first time, she asks herself if this is because of her, if Woedica heard her thoughts and decided to make them both pay.

“I know.” Thaos kisses her tears away, one by one, stroking her hair, coaxing her soul back to that luminous place. “Why do you insist on taking the blame for my faults?” he asks, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t,” she protests. “It’s just…”

“Yes, you do. You shouldn’t.” He sighs, leaning towards her until their foreheads touch. “That is not how the world works, soulmistress. You cannot simply erase all the wrong as if it never existed.”

“Then you can’t erase all the good things, either.” Her hands frame his face, and then drop to his palms. “You…” her throat constricts. “You have done… terrible things. Things you won’t tell me about, even now. But… I saw some of your memories. I… could imagine.” She could but does not want to, afraid of what she could learn. “But I also saw you here. Felt the weight you took upon your shoulders. Watched you sacrifice yourself to Woedica. Not just one life; your soul, your… your whole being. Future. Chances.” Her fingers tighten around his. “That’s what I wanted to give you. A chance. And a choice, so that you could decide what to do with it.”

Slowly, he draws her into an embrace. “Then let me choose,” he murmurs into her hair. “Let me choose to spare you, now that I can. Let me choose not to smother that light within you.”

She hides her face against his neck and wraps her arms around him. “I don’t want you to be alone with this,” she whispers.

“I’m not.” He strokes her back a few times and just holds her. “You should not carry my burden, and I won’t allow it. This is something I have to face on my own. But now I have a place to go back to,” he explains softly. “That makes all the difference.”

“Oh…” She blinks, pulls away, looks up at him.

His hands cradle her face again. “That is why I never returned here before. Because I would have had to stay. I did not have that much courage.” He smiles faintly. “I don’t want you with me in this place, Eidis.” He takes her hands, pulls her out of that cold chamber – the darkest recesses of his soul – back into reality, into the first morning glow of sunlight warming their bed, into the crumpled sheets smelling of incense and pilgrim’s crown. “I want you to stay away and burn brightly, and let me rest in your light when I come back.”

Once more, she is amazed by his way with words; he does not speak of feelings often, but when he does, it always makes her melt. “If that’s what you want,” she says at last.

“Have you ever thought that I might want you to be free, too, soulmistress?” Thaos asks in a warm whisper.

The corners of her lips curl up in a small but assured smile. “Yes, I have,” she breathes. “You might have mentioned it once or twice.”

Thaos puts an arm around her, his palm sliding up her spine until it settles on her shoulder blade. “Then let me.”

She cannot refuse him when he asks, no more than he can refuse her. “I will not go there,” she agrees, reluctantly. “But you… I’m…” What; glad that he went there? That is something he had to do, to face his past. Relieved? Maybe. It changes things, knowing that he found it in himself to look so far back and face his past. A step forward.

Thaos gently lifts her hand to his mouth, presses his lips to her knuckles. “Maybe one day,” he mutters, thoughtful, “maybe one day, I will ask you to go there with me. Until then, let me face the memories alone.”

Eidis sighs. “I will.”

“And wait for me here?” The question is soft and cautious, as if he was reluctant to ask her for commitment, even though he knows of her feelings.

“Only if you will return to me.”

He looks at her, his expression solemn, but there is something in his eyes – a light that has not been there before, all the more visible because it shines in the dark. “Always, Eidis. For as long as you will have me.”


End file.
